


little by little i'm sinking right in

by intrinsicness



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Not Beta Read, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Texting, Vaginal Sex, for about 30 seconds, the author is not british but lives in the uk so dialect choices may be weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrinsicness/pseuds/intrinsicness
Summary: Eloise:how was the rest of your night daph? you disappeared and i had to hang out with frannie :( mum wouldn’t let me get her drunkFrancesca:excuse you i’m great companyDaphne:it was fine, i just hung out with some friendsEloise:which totally explains the hickeyFrancesca:and why you’re practically sitting in simon’s lap
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset
Comments: 104
Kudos: 429





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> bet the 22 people who subbed to me for that sherlock one-shot 8 years ago were not expecting this!!! neither was I tbh 
> 
> please let me live in my pretend world where british unis celebrate graduation and reunion like american colleges thanks goodbye
> 
> title from wild girl by kito/empress of

Older alumni liked to think of the annual University Ball like some sort of formal occasion, which perhaps it had once been, but all of the students knew better; they treated it as a competition for how many free drink tokens they could acquire before getting pissed enough to proposition whichever soon-to-be graduate they’d been lusting after for the past year, or two, or three. 

Daphne was trying to work on the getting drunk stage of the evening, not that she had anyone in mind to proposition, but instead she’d spent the last hour lounging on the steps of the main library with her siblings (well, two of the seven) nursing a weakening gin and tonic. She’d spent the last year trying to talk Colin into confessing his love to Penelope Featherington, and now, on the eve of his graduation, she thought it might finally happen, especially with Eloise here to back her up. 

“After all, Colin, she’s so shy, she’d probably never say anything to you! And then you’ll graduate and never see each other again and it’ll be some sort of tragic lost love situation and we’ll all have to deal with you moping around the house until you fuck off to Cyprus or wherever.” 

“Daph, I can’t–I don’t want to hurt her––“ Colin started.

“So don’t,” Eloise cut him off. “You’ve been gone over each other for years, even if you only figured it out like a month ago. You’re not going to ruin that.” She and Daphne traded a look over his head, simultaneously rolling their eyes. 

“Up you get, Col.” Daphne gave him a shove, but with her slight build she could hardly budge him. “Come on! It’s your last chance, you have to!”

“Fine, fine! I’ll go talk to her at least.” Colin heaved himself off the step and sauntered towards the Featherington sisters, who were clumped around a bar table with their mother. 

“I hope we haven’t sent him off for disappointment,” said Eloise. 

“Unless the entire family has misunderstood literal years of pining looks, I doubt that we have,” replied Daphne. She tossed back the last of her drink, which had started as a nice gin and tonic before ending as mostly melted ice in the warm (for England, anyway) evening. “Let’s get another?” Eloise had only just turned 18, but Daphne knew for a fact that Benedict had been buying her alcohol for the past three years so Daphne figured she was, at least, not the primary contributor to any future alcoholism. 

“Fuck, yes. An hour convincing any man to do a sensible thing deserves at least a shot of tequila each. And considering our success I think we deserve two!” cheered Eloise. 

* * *

bridgerton sibs 18+  
  
Benedict  
dunno what you did daph but it looks like colin’s finally talking to pen  
i will never reveal my secrets  
Eloise  
talking I think u mean snogging  
Benedict  
yes thanks Eloise I was trying to be delicate  
fucking finally  
Colin  
excuse me you guys I am IN this chat I can SEE what you’re saying about me  
Eloise  
get some!!  
and then bring her to breakfast tomorrow morning i’ll need all the deets  
we’re all very proud of you colin  
but mostly I am proud of myself for finally being a successful wingwoman  
Benedict  
I’m not sure you can call it successful if it took a bloody year  


* * *

“Come on, Basset, one more!” cried Anthony, as Simon tried to pull on his coat. “You’ve hardly been here twenty minutes, you can’t leave yet!”

“Look, Anthony, I would love to be as drunk as you are right now, but I am so intensely jetlagged that another whisky would put me right to sleep,” said Simon wearily. “In fact, I think I should probably go before I fall asleep on the main green and have to be carried back to the room.”

Anthony frowned, although to Simon’s expert eyes – a dozen years of friendship never lied – it looked more like a pout. “You’re only here to see Professor Danbury, it’s not like you need to be functioning in the morning. In fact, if you’re not thoroughly hungover, she’ll probably be disappointed in you.”

Simon chuckled. “Fine, fine, I’ll stay,” Simon grumbled, as Anthony grinned with the undiluted emotion of the truly soused. “But I’m going to go find out if the bar has coffee.”

“I think an espresso martini might be more likely, but the looks of it.” They glanced over at the temporary bar, which had more than its fair share of fairy lights but nary a coffee maker in sight. 

Simon headed off to the bar, shaking his head. He really had intended to stay out for one drink, no more. He’d just returned from a trip abroad – literally, his flight had landed that morning – and he was indeed feeling intensely jetlagged. But the chance to catch up with one of his oldest and best friends was worth the probable grogginess he would face in the morning. 

He hadn’t intended to come back to the university for the graduation activities that year, but his old mentor, Professor Agatha Danbury, was receiving an honorary degree. After all she’d done for him, he felt it was only right to be there to cheer for her. 

The bar was indeed lacking in coffee (and espresso martinis were a bit beyond their capabilities) so Simon settled for a glass of sparkling water while he surveyed the crowd. He’d attended the ball as an undergraduate, of course, but during his postgraduate years he hadn’t been back once. It was still a mess – the students on the pull, alumni reconnecting with old friends, and professors drunker than they should be at their workplace. It was beautiful.

* * *

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Daphne muttered as she approached the bar to get drinks for her and Eloise. Nigel had spotted her on her way across the green and now he was making a beeline towards her. 

She’d spent the last two years putting him off politely, but he had a boundless store of hope that she would change her mind. As he waved at her she stared resolutely ahead and lunged for an opening at the bar, then peeked behind her.

No luck. Nigel was still headed her way. 

Desperate, Daphne grabbed at the arm of the man next to her and said in a rush, “I’m sorry to be so forward, but would you mind kissing me?”

He turned, something like “What the fuck?” clearly on the tip of his tongue, before he paused and gave her an obvious, lingering once over. She felt heat crawl over her cheeks as she flushed. “I could be persuaded.” 

“Well, if you don’t, Nigel—” she jerked her head towards Nigel, who was making a spectacle of himself pushing through the crowd “—will come and ask me out for the fifth fucking time and I just can’t deal with that tonight!”

“I see,” he smirked, then cupped a hand around the nape of her neck and leaned in for a kiss. As kisses went, it was chaste but firm, and Daphne thought—hoped—it would look to others like a familiar, casual kiss between a man and a woman who already had a boyfriend, so stop asking me out, Nigel. 

As they drew back from each other, his thumb stroked her cheek and her mouth fell open. She looked it to his eyes and felt, suddenly, a burning desire to kiss him again. And if the look in his eyes was any indication…

She startled as he pulled her back in. 

Daphne had been kissed before, of course, but calling this just a kiss was as misleading as saying that the Bridgerton family croquet games were just a bit competitive. It was possessive, filthy, and everything she’d hoped for from every other disappointing kiss in her life. 

The hand behind her neck dropped down to curl at her waist, then press at the small of her back, drawing their bodies together, the heat of him bleeding into her, while the other hand—

Daphne gasped, her lips opening as he cupped her breast, his thumb skimming quickly over her hardening nipple. She’d worn a lacy bralette under her blue chiffon dress, and it did nothing to dull the sensation; on the contrary, the roughness of the lace heightened it. He took advantage of the opening to tease her tongue with his. 

The world narrowed down to her mouth, and his hands on her body. She whimpered, involuntarily, against his mouth, hands coming up rest on his chest, as he pressed her against the bar, one leg pressing between hers, when suddenly—

“Daphne?” Nigel Berbrooke said brightly. 

“Oh! Nigel!” she squeaked, tearing herself away from the best kiss she’d ever had. Another entry against Nigel (not that there were any for him) in the long list of reasons she had for never, ever wanting to see him again. The noise of the world poured back in as she realised that she’d been headed towards first base in public. “I didn’t see you there. This is…,” she trailed off as she realised she didn’t know her mystery man’s name. 

“Simon,” he volunteered. “Did you need something?”

“Er, no, sorry, er, as you were!” Nigel tripped over his words, then, seeing Simon’s expression, tripped over his feet as he scurried away.

“You needn’t give him a death glare like that,” Daphne said, smothering a giggle as Nigel ran off. “He’s harmless, really, just doesn’t know when to give up.”

“Well, maybe this will teach him, although I’m not sure learning to back off only when another man is involved is the best lesson.” Simon smiled at her, and pressed another short kiss to her lips. “Would you—wait, did he call you Daphne?”

“Would I what?” A thrill ran through her at the possibilities. “And yes, I’m Daphne. Daphne Bridgerton.”

* * *

Damn it all to hell. That’s why she looked familiar. Daphne was Anthony’s sister. Anthony’s beautiful, much younger sister, who he had been about to proposition. 

“I was going to ask if you want to come back to mine, actually,” he said ruefully, “But I’d prefer not to have Anthony shoot me for getting with one of his sisters. He has certain opinions about who is, ah, worthy of being with his siblings—”

“Oh! You’re Simon Basset, aren’t you?” she asked. He nodded. “I didn’t think that Anthony would be so prejudiced—”

“No, no, it’s not because I’m black, it’s because I’ve spent the last ten years sleeping with, as he puts it, anyone breathing and willing. As has he, and he also freely admits he would not like a man like him dating his siblings.” 

“Well, what Anthony doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and anyway, he doesn’t get to be decide what I do with my body. And right now, what I’d like to do with my body is continue this.” She looked worried, suddenly. “That is, if you want to.”

Anthony was going to murder him, probably after some prolonged torture and a long lecture about how friends’ sisters were meant to be off limits. And yet, faced with the goddess before him, Simon found that he didn’t give a shit about his impending demise.

How could she think he would not take everything she would give him? “Daphne, believe me when I say wild horses couldn’t stop me from giving you every pleasure I am capable of. But when he tries to shoot me please intervene on my behalf.” 

“Yes, Simon. I promise that if my brother tries to shoot one of his oldest and dearest friends for having pleasurable, consensual sex with me, I will stop him from committing murder,” Daphne said witheringly.

“When you put it like that, I see how I might be exaggerating,” he chuckled. 

“Where are you staying? I’d invite you back to mine but the walls are so thin I can hear my flatmates snoring.” Daphne wrinkled her nose. Simon found this so adorable he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss the tip of it. 

“I’m staying in a suite with Anthony, unfortunately, but he might end up at Siena’s tonight.”

“Might? Bold of you to assume that Anthony is capable of keeping it in his pants when Siena is within fifty miles of him,” Daphne said. “It’s settled, then, we’ll go to yours.” 

* * *

Anthony Bridgerton  
  
where'd u go basset??  
sorry bridgerton, got a better offer than your company  
how’d you manage to pick someone up?? uve only been gone 10 mins  
I would say watch and learn but I’d really rather you didn’t  
and you say that like you’re not already on your way to fuck siena   
fuck off  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is…just sex. literally nothing else. so consequently there will be probably two more chapters because there is meant to be like…maybe half of a plotline here.

By the time they got to Simon’s, Daphne was nearly vibrating out of her skin in anticipation. The effort of keeping their hands off each other on the walk across campus had tested her resolve, but the horror of being spotted by a friend (or worse, a relative) getting ravished in public was enough to keep her moving.

(Except for that moment outside the music building, when Simon had pressed her into a dark alcove and they’d kissed deeply as she tugged his shirt out of his trousers and ran her hands up his smooth, muscled, back.) 

(And when she’d pulled him into a copse of trees just past the gatehouse, and he’d the pushed strap of her dress down to bare her breast to the night air and laved at her nipple as she threw her head back and gasped with the sensation.) 

(And as they passed by…well, in any case, they made it to Simon’s eventually.)

Simon tugged her across the threshold then slammed the door and pressed her up against it. The chill of the wood sent goose pimples across her skin, and, she noticed as Simon pushed down the top of her dress again, made her nipples harden – although that may have been in part due to the attention that he gave them immediately. 

“What do you like?” he asked her, as he teased her nipples between his fingers. It didn’t feel fair that to Daphne that she had to answer a question while being so distracted. 

“I, well, I don’t know, actually.”

Simon’s hands stilled. “Surely you’ve done this before?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I haven’t,” Daphne said, blushing and dropping her eyes. “This isn’t really like me, to be so forward.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t had the opportunity the last couple of years, and she felt as any modern feminist did that virginity was a social construct, but it had never seemed to be quite the right time. And she wasn’t trying to wait for some true love scenario – obviously, as she was about to give it up to someone she’d met less than an hour ago – but after so long not doing it, at some point she has begun to feel like the first time had to be something special. 

And this feeling Simon gave her, like she was burning from the inside out? That was definitely special. 

Simon cupped his hand around her cheek and drew her in for a deep kiss. “Then we’ll do whatever you want to do and stop when you’ve had enough. Tell me if you like what I’m doing.” 

“Ok,” she whispered. 

“Can I eat you out?” he asked, as he started rucking up her skirt. She started to reply, then moaned, clutching his head as he pressed little kisses down her neck and got his hands on her bare thighs. “Can I?” he asked again, fingers resting on the band of her knickers. 

“Please,” Daphne sighed. He dropped to his knees before her, sliding her panties off. She looked at the vision of a man kneeling before her and lost her breath for a moment. 

Daphne watched as Simon kissed each of her thighs, then her mound, her muscles rippling under the featherlight touch of his lips. He pulled her leg over his shoulder and gently spread her folds with two fingers. “You’re soaked,” he murmured appreciatively. She shivered in anticipation. 

At the first gentle press of his tongue she dropped her head back against the door and clutched wildly at the doorknob with one hand, gasping. Simon reached up to squeeze her free hand, reassuring, then got a grip on her waist as he lapped at her. She twitched into his hold at each touch, hearing herself whimper through a daze of pleasure. 

Daphne felt her legs shake as he explored, probing her opening with his wickedly skilled tongue, but his firm, reassuring hold on her waist steadied her as she cried out. Together, they learned what she liked, certain touches bringing cries and whimpers to her lips. Simon settled into an easy rhythm of broad laps, catching her clit right at the end of each pass with a twist of his tongue, working her slowly towards her release. Already worked up from their detours on the walk there, she was nearly on the edge of orgasm, but his lush, slow passes weren’t quite enough to get her there. 

She gasped out, “I—I want—ah!”

“What do you need, Daphne?”

“I don’t—fuck—I don’t know! More! Please, Simon!

* * *

Daphne was a vision, gasping his name above him while she writhed in his arms. She was dripping wet, her pale skin flushed and marked from his beard and his teeth, and completely unselfconscious. 

He slid a finger up her folds, then pressed it into her. It slid in without the slightest resistance. She made a beautiful sound of satisfaction, humming in pleasure. He finally gave her clit the attention it’d been begging for, sucking on it as he began moving his hand, stroking her inside.

After hardly thirty seconds, she gasped, “Another, please, Simon—” 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Daphne,” he said. 

“Please, Simon, I need it—I’m so close—!” 

Her plea cut off with a moan as he slid another finger into her. And she was right – she was more than wet enough, ready enough for more. To have her give herself over to him so completely was like a drug. He couldn’t get enough.

As he slid his fingers in and out of her beautiful cunt, he sucked hard at her clit and suddenly, she came, her entire body tensing, her back arching, and her walls pulsing around his fingers, a small breathy cry leaving her. He worked her through it gently until her breathing evened, and came back up to press a kiss to her lips. She hummed as she tasted her juices on his mouth.

“Is that what I taste like?” she wondered. 

Simon couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding. Daphne sounded so innocent, compared to the wanton she’d been mere moments ago, begging him for more – and compared to how wrecked she looked, nearly collapsed against the door. Her skirt had dropped back down to cover her privates, but her breasts still hung out from where he’d pulled her neckline aside earlier. He realised that, other than Daphne’s knickers, they were both still basically fully dressed. It had been a long time since he’d been far gone enough that he couldn’t stop to undress before getting his hands – and mouth – on a girl. “Come on, let’s get out of these clothes.”

He turned to divest himself of his layers, dropping his clothes on a chair, then briefly rooted around in his bag. Thank God – there was a condom in there. He turned back to the bed and stopped dead. 

Daphne was spread out over red sheets, miles of creamy skin on display. Chestnut hair spilled across the pillows, supple curves traced her body down to delicate ankles and high-arched feet like a dancer’s. Simon couldn’t believe his luck – this beautiful woman was trusting him to be her first, and he suddenly hoped that he could be her last as well.

Shaking himself out of his daze, he held up the condom. “Shall we?”

Daphne didn’t answer straight away.

“We don’t have to; we can do whatever you want, we can stop here if you—”

“I want to!” Daphne interrupted him. Then, sheepishly, “Sorry, I was a bit distracted, just, you know, looking.” She eyed his abs and, below them, his jutting hardness. “I know, intellectually, that it’ll fit, but it’s just…it’s a lot.”

“Do you want me to open you up a little more, get you ready?” Simon asked, lying down next to her. He pressed a hand over the thatch of hair between her legs, slipping a finger into her folds and pressing into her opening. She seemed even slicker than before, if that was even possible. “Or move on to the main event?”

“The latter, I think,” Daphne said, squirming on his finger, trying to find her pleasure but clearly needing something more. “I know I just came, but…I feel like I need it. Now.”

God. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He rolled over, covering her body with his, as he sought her mouth, which opened readily as her traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. He slid a second finger into her wet heat as they kissed.

“Simon, please, I need more,” Daphne whined. 

He turned to pick up the condom, then groaned as Daphne caught hold of his hardness and gave it an experimental stroke. Fire coursed through him in a rush. “If you keep that up, we might not need this condom,” he said, frowning at her playfully.

She smirked at him and kept up her strokes until he batted her hand away to roll it on. He sprawled out on his back, tugging her over him. “Come on, you get on top. You’ll be in control that way; you can stop if it’s too much.”

* * *

Daphne knelt over Simon, feeling his hardness brush at her folds and his hands resting on her thighs. Above him like this, she felt exposed, but any apprehension vanished when she met his eyes. The fire behind them – that was for her. 

As she sank on to him, he hissed in pleasure. His hands tightened on her thighs, hard enough that she thought she might have bruises there in the morning. “Sorry,” he gasped, reaching down to grab the sheets instead. 

“No,” Daphne said, catching his wrists. “I liked it. Hold me, please.” As he clutched at her thighs, she sank down further, feeling herself stretch to let him in. She threw her head back as she pressed down. She felt like she was splitting in two, in the best possible way. But suddenly she reached a point of too much. “How much further?” she asked, afraid to look for herself. 

“Just a couple more inches. You’re nearly there, Daphne,” he murmured. 

“I can’t—”

Simon made a soothing shushing sound, pulled her off of him a bit, then eased her back down as the slide of them together eased. She dropped the rest of the way on to his cock in a sudden rush and felt her breath punch out of her throat. “Oh!” 

Feeling him lift her so effortlessly shot a bolt of lust through her. She fantasized for a moment about getting fucked against a wall – it wasn’t really something she normally thought about, but with every demonstration of Simon’s strength it was rapidly climbing up the list. 

She shook off her distraction and shifted her hips experimentally, sighing in pleasure as she felt him inside of her. The discomfort of the that initial stretch was suddenly a distant memory, replaced by an all-consuming ease. She fancied that she could feel the heat of pleasure licking up her spine and across her shoulders. She leaned down to catch his mouth, sinking into his embrace. They stayed that way as her body adjusted to this new configuration. It felt right, somehow, like Simon completed her, her insides remade to make a space inside her, just for him.

As they traded lazy kisses, her desperation slowly ratcheted up, until she was squirming on Simon’s cock, trying to find her pleasure but not knowing where to look.

Finally taking pity on her, Simon started moving shallowly in and out of her, and as she gasped and pushed down to meet him, deepened his thrusts. She could feel every devastating inch of the slick slide of him in her. He’d said she could stay in control on top, but caught between his cock, his strong hands on her hips, and his wicked mouth, she felt anything but. 

It was exhilarating. 

Suddenly, Simon wrapped his arms around Daphne’s waist and rolled her over on to her back, then sank back into her as she clutched his shoulders. As he bottomed out, her hands dropped to the pillow above her head as she arched into him. He wasn’t quite as deep this way, but the feel of his body blanketing hers more than made up for it. He looked at her consideringly, then took her wrists together in his hand and stretched her arms over her head, holding them there. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Daphne nodded frantically. Thus arranged, he set a punishing rhythm. With every stroke, she felt her breath leave her in a sharp moan. The feeling of his hand on her wrists, holding her below him, powerless to break free, paradoxically made her feel so powerful. He would do whatever she wanted. He was focused so intimately on her pleasure, on making her feel everything. Every press of his body into hers, every kiss that he scattered on her neck and her breasts, was for her. 

With that thought, she ached to be closer to him. “Please, Simon, I need to touch you,” she gasped out. 

He let go of her hands, and in the same movement, caught her breast in his, lightly pinching her nipple, then brought his hand down to where they were joined, pressing on her belly and fitting a thumb over her clit. 

She choked on the intensity of the feeling. With every thrust, the pressure on her belly helped her feel him, every drag of him inside of her heightened. Showers of sparks knocked through her nervous system each time he pressed into her clit. 

Daphne clutched at Simon’s shoulders desperately as she fell over the edge into her release, tensing, crying out, surprising herself as she cried out. She’d never expected to be a particularly loud lover, but apparently he could pull these sounds out of her as a matter of course. 

Simon thrust four, five more times, then buried himself in her, holding her tight as he reached his completion. Daphne could feel him pulsing inside of her, a curiously small sensation after the enormity of the last minutes. She wondered what it would feel like for him to spill inside of her, without any protection. Would she feel the warmth of his spend?

They clung to each other desperately as their breathing settled. 

“How do you feel?” Simon murmured. 

“I feel wonderful,” Daphne replied. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little piece-y! but i hope you enjoy nonetheless

They dozed together on the bed, limbs tangled. If not for the paleness of Daphne’s skin against his, Simon fancied he wouldn’t have been able to tell where one of them started and the other ended. He lazed happily in a fog of contentment, then roused a bit when Daphne shifted her hips restlessly. “Need something?”

Daphne bit her lip. “I miss—I feel empty.”

“Well, that’s easily fixed,” Simon replied, smirking. He snaked the hand that had been clutching her hip between her legs and rested two fingers against her opening. “Okay?”

“Please,” she said, and then made a little hum of contentment as Simon slipped them inside. She’d made the same noise as she sank onto him earlier, and he thought it might be his favourite sound in all the world.

They traded kisses as she shifted on his hand, almost leisurely, on the edge of something more.

“Was that an acceptable first time, then?” Simon asked. While his tone was playful, the question was true.

“You know it was,” she replied. “Ten out of ten would recommend losing your virginity to a known rake.”

In retaliation for Daphne’s cheek, Simon rubbed a thumb over her clit, shocking a mewl of surprise out of her, then another one of those little contented hums as he continued his ministrations.

“Could you go again?” she asked.

“My god, love, you’re going to be the death of me.” He was amazed by her uninhibited desire, which he hadn’t expected when she admitted her lack of experience. But perhaps that was exactly what allowed it – there had been no one before him to make her feel ashamed of her openness, her unambiguous admissions of pleasure and want. He prayed that no one would ever teach her to hide those desires. 

“…is that a yes?” Daphne hedged. “I just—if this is going to be my only chance with you—I know that you don’t really—I’ve heard enough from Anthony to know that you don’t usually—sorry, this isn’t mean to be some sort of value judgement."

Simon nearly growled at the thought of a night spent without Daphne. In the past hours, he’d grown attached – and it had caught him completely by surprise. He hadn’t spent more than a few days with anyone since he’d graduated university, but he couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight. “It won’t be our only night,” he ground out. “I would have you every day for the rest of my life, if you would let me.”

“What?” Daphne seemed genuinely shocked.

“I’ve spent the last decade not getting attached. But that means that I know when I find someone I don’t want to lose.”

“We’ve known each other for two hours, Simon, how can you possibly know that?” But as she protested he could see the doubt steal across her face. Could she—did she—possibly feel the same way?

“I know, I know this sounds ridiculous, but Daphne, I _burn_ for you. I promise it’s not just the sex, although that was astoundingly good. I don’t know you yet, but I want to. I want to try, and perhaps we’ll go down in flames, but I want to try.”

In answer, Daphne surged up to kiss him again. By the time she replied, “I want that, too,” they were both panting with desire.

This time, their coupling was languid and easy, compared to the speed and strength of their first, the tenderness of new love tempering their urgency. Daphne sighed through her release as Simon pressed into her, and he followed shortly afterwards.

* * *

Daphne woke slowly, luxuriating in the warmth of Simon’s arms around her. She snuggled deeper into his embrace, tucking her head under his chin and pressing her lips to his neck.

“What are you thinking about?” Simon asked from above.

“You,” Daphne admitted.

They traded sleepy kisses until Daphne peered over his shoulder at the window and realised that the sun was up and streaming into the room.

“Oh! What’s the time?” Daphne asked. When Simon fumbled for his phone and replied that it was coming up for ten o’clock, she gasped and ran to grab her clothes. “Sorry!” she called over her shoulder as she hurriedly dressed. “It’s the graduation brunch. I have to get to the restaurant by half ten, Mum will kill me if I’m late, and if I’ve not changed clothes I’ll have to hear about it from _every single one_ of my siblings.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you later, won’t I?”

“Of course! I’ll text you when we’re headed to graduation, you can come sit with us.”

She fished her phone out of her purse and chucked it to him to input his number, then was out the door in a flash of chestnut hair and sky-blue chiffon.

* * *

Rose  
  
daphne bridgerton!! where on earth did you end up last night???  
a little birdy (aka Kitty) told me that Cressy said she saw you making out with some mystery man at the bar   
cressy is a horrible gossip and you know that   
that’s not a no   
…  
well  
I think I have a new boyfriend   
and his name is simon basset   
!!!  
!!!!!!!  
he is like!! The richest person under 30 in the uk!!  
not literally but like close   
wait he’s under 30 right

* * *

Simon dozed for a little longer, then awoke to a knock on his door – had Daphne forgot something? But no, he realised as he opened it, it was another Bridgerton entirely. Anthony, to be precise, looking extremely self-satisfied about what Simon could only assume had been a great night with Siena. The relationship between the two of them had been like watching a slow-motion car crash unfold over several years, but at least it seemed like they were enjoying the sex. “You’re looking like the cat who got the cream. How’s Siena, then?” Too late, Simon realised he probably looked about as smug about his night as Anthony did, and it would have been better to avoid the topic entirely.

As if on cue, Anthony replied, “As are you, don’t pretend you didn’t have some fun last night! How was it?”

Simon felt his entire face flush as he choked out something noncommittal. God, if Anthony realised it was Daphne he was talking about, he would be lucky to escape alive.

“Anyway, just wanted to see if you wanted to come along to breakfast. Same place we go every time there’s a graduation, you remember when we went our year? For Colin this year, and we’ll be back for Daphne next year as well,” Anthony said breezily.

A chance to see Daphne again? Also, fuck, she hadn’t graduated yet – how old was she? Yet even as he asked himself, he found he didn’t care, so long as she was of age. It was like there was a hot coal lodged in his chest that threw off sparks every time he thought of her, her verve, her insatiable desire, her beauty. As casually as he could, Simon accepted Anthony’s invitation before excusing himself to dress and panic-text Daphne while he was at it.

* * *

Simon Basset  
  
wait you’re still a student? how old are you?  
21   
why?   
fuck I’m 29  
yeah I know you’re the same age as Anthony   
yeah and i’ll be dead after he kills me for deflowering his much younger sister   
“deflower” lol the regency called it wants its slang back   
this from the girl who called me a rake

* * *

The official location of the Bridgerton graduation day breakfast was always the same. In Violet and Edmund’s day, it had been the sort of place that served mostly bacon rolls to hungover students. These days, it still sold plenty of bacon rolls to hungover students, but it was also a very trendy brunch spot.

Violet had been a particular friend of the owners of the place since her university days, when she’d worked there – and they had actually catered her and Edmund’s wedding – and so even at a time as busy as graduation, there was always a private room available to the Bridgerton brood. And they needed it, with Violet and the eight children and the various hangers-on they had, even if none of them had married yet, much to Violet’s continuing disappointment.

Violet arrived first, with Gregory and Hyacinth in tow, the two young enough that they still stayed with Violet. Eloise and Francesca arrived soon after, but curiously Daphne wasn’t with them – she would have expected them to arrive together, as the younger girls had stayed over the night in Daphne’s flat. But soon Colin arrived with Penelope Featherington, and by the time the chaos and congratulations over the two of them had settled, Daphne had slipped in, giving her brother a tight hug as she congratulated him on his new relationship. 

Simon followed Anthony in, the first time he had attended the graduation breakfast since his own university days. Benedict sloped in after him, Henry in tow, and muttered that possibly Genny or Lucy would join them later. Violet was never sure of her second son’s relationship status, let alone his sexuality, but he’d been brighter since he’d fallen in with them, and she had decided it was best not to pry.

Violet hadn’t intended for all of her children to follow her to her and Edmund’s alma mater. Of course, Anthony would never have chosen a different university, idolising his father as he had, and Daphne she had similarly expected to follow in her own footsteps. Benedict hadn’t graduated, dropping out halfway to pursue the art degree everyone had been telling him to do since the beginning. And now Colin was finishing and Eloise was getting ready to attend in the autumn.

She led a toast to family, friends, and, with a wink at Colin and Penelope, new love. As everyone’s glasses clinked together, laughter and chatter swelled. Violet sat back, happy.

* * *

Daphne ended up crowded onto a bench seat between Eloise and Simon. She started a respectable distance away from him, but she could feel the heat radiating off of his body, making her feel feverish enough that she took off her light jumper. But that possibly made it worse, because every time they made contact accidentally, she could feel his bare skin on hers. She tried her best not to look too blissfully well-fucked, but every time they made touched, or shared a glance, she could feel the heat of her blush up her cheeks and down her chest.

By the time they were served, their thighs were pressed together. Daphne wasn’t really sure which of them moved, but the force of him was magnetic.

Luckily, everyone else was distracted. Colin had indeed brought Penelope to breakfast, after they had apparently spent the night chastely declaring their undying love.

Daphne leaned into Simon’s warmth as he placed his hand on her thigh below the table. It wasn’t anywhere inappropriate, but his grip still sent flutters down her spine.

“How are you doing?” he asked under his breath

“I’m a bit sore, but I suppose that’s to be expected,” she murmured back.

“I’m sorry, nonetheless.”

“Don’t be. It’s—it’s nice, having the reminder.” Daphne heard his sharp breath in at the same time that his hand clenched involuntarily on her tight. Clearly, he was just as worked up as she was.

bridger gals  
  
Eloise  
how was the rest of your night daph? You disappeared and I had to hang out with frannie :( mom wouldn’t let me get her drunk   
Francesca  
excuse you I’m great company   
it was fine, I just found some friends and hung out with them   
Francesca  
which totally explains the hickey   
Eloise  
and why you’re practically sitting in simon’s lap   
I hate you all  
Hyacinth  
I didn’t say anything!! Also this is really inappropriate   
Eloise  
Hyacinth don’t pretend you don’t know how sex works 

“No mobiles at the table, girls!” Violet called down the table.

Daphne glared at Francesca, then hissed at Eloise, “I am _not_ sitting in his lap.” Unfortunately, it coincided with a lull in conversation, so about half of the room heard.

The other half of the room heard, too, when Hyacinth, a look of perfect innocence on her face, parroted, “Sitting in whose lap, Daphne?” The lull in conversation became a dead silence.

Daphne sat bolt upright at Simon snatched his hand off of her thigh. But the damage was already done. 

Anthony narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute – Daphne, you disappeared last night right when Simon did. Is there anything you’d like to tell us, dearest sister?”


	4. Chapter 4

After 21 years of listening to her eldest brother and promptly disregarding 99% of the shit that came out of his mouth, Daphne was well versed in giving him infuriating non-answers. As much as she appreciated his helping raise the rest of the children after their father’s passing, it didn’t _actually_ give him the right to demand answers about her love life. Especially after he’d spent her teenage years scaring off every boy who came within two metres of her.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell us, dearest sister?”

“No, my dear brother, I don’t believe there is,” Daphne relied coolly. “And if there were, I don’t see how it would be any of your concern.” She hoped he wouldn’t press harder and make a scene. Maybe they could all get through this breakfast in peace.

Her gamble didn’t pay off. Anthony’s quick temper, once roused, rarely allowed him to drop a topic once he’d got his teeth into it. He turned his glare on his best friend. “What about you, Simon? Anything I ought to know?”

Simon, who looked unfairly nonchalant about his impending death – Anthony’s grip on his knife was getting worryingly tight – merely smirked and replied, “What she said.” And then, while locked in the most aggressive staring contest Daphne had ever seen, he settled his arm insouciantly across her shoulders, tugging her into him, casually possessive.

Daphne felt herself blush over basically her entire body, but couldn’t help snuggling into his warmth. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Anthony. The man looked like he was about to have a stroke.

“Are you sure about that?” he gritted out from clenched teeth.

“We are not going to talk about this in front of everyone,” Daphne hissed, then tore herself away from Simon’s exquisite heat and dragged Anthony outside.

“Daphne, what are you thinking? You’ve heard my stories about Simon!”

“Yes, I have! I have heard your stories about the two of you sleeping your way through every girl at university, but I have also heard your stories about what an intelligent, honourable man he is! And,” she clenched her jaw and muttered, “He’s made me come three times in the last ten hours, so honestly right now I wouldn’t really care if he was a horrible person who went around clubbing baby seals for fun.”

“I did not need to know that,” Anthony said, looking extremely aggrieved. “Please never tell me anything about your or Simon’s sex life ever again.”

“You’re the one who fucking asked,” Daphne pointed out. “Also, are you telling me you and Simon never…you know? While you were at school?”

“ _Please_ don’t make this any more awkward than it needs to be, Daph,” said Simon, coming up behind her.

Daphne snorted. “Oh, now you choose to butt in, right when it was getting fun! So that’s a yes, is it?” Anthony looked so pained that she decided she could get some answers later on, once he was done throwing a tantrum about her love life. “This relationship is like eight hours old, Anthony; can’t I have anything in my life without telling you immediately?”

Anthony scoffed. “A relationship? Simon, in a relationship?”

“I swear to God, Anthony, this isn’t about you,” Daphne replied. “Simon and I are _adults_ —”

Simon cut in calmly. “Look, Anthony, this isn’t one of my usual.”

“A likely story.”

“Extremely likely, because it’s the truth. This is none of your concern!” cried Daphne.

“And when he abandons you and I have to—”

“Christ, Bridgerton, what do you want me to do? Propose to her? Would that be enough commitment for you? Or do we have to make it Facebook official too?”

At this, Anthony deflated. He took Daphne’s hands in his and asked earnestly, “Do you love him?”

“What the fuck, Anthony? I’ve known him for twelve hours—I don’t know! I don’t even really know him yet. But I want—I think I could,” she admitted.

“Then you have my blessing,” he replied reluctantly. “But don’t think means I won’t hunt you down if you hurt her, Basset.”

“I would expect no less,” Simon said. “Now can you get out of here so I can kiss my girlfriend?”

* * *

* * *

bridgerton sibs 18+  
  
Eloise  
my god this year’s ball is so much more boring than last year   
someone go dramatically fall in love  
Francesca  
be the goss you wish to see in the chat, Eloise!!  
Eloise  
I regret adding you to the group text we should have just changed the name to bridgerton sibs 19+  
Colin  
benedict’s wandered off with some guy   
that’s not goss, that’s just what he does   
Colin  
and Anthony seems to have his eye on someone   
Eloise  
now THAT is news   
bit young for you, isn’t she Anthony?  
Francesca  
and how old is your boyfriend, daph???

* * *

Simon waited for whatever they were passing off as a lager at one of the hastily constructed outdoor bars. He wasn’t precisely glad to be back at the University Ball a second year in a row, but he was certainly glad not to be as aggressively jetlagged as last year. His attendance this year had actually been planned in advance, and in any case he’d been spending less time abroad over the last year.

“Is that you, Basset? It is! How are you doing?” a round-vowelled voice brayed from over Simon’s shoulder. The issue with turning up to university events was that you had to deal with seeing your university classmates. He fixed a polite smile on his face and braced himself for a likely dull, probing conversation.

Most of them followed a predictable pattern: they fished for information about Simon’s business, pretending that they hadn’t recently checked his intentionally sparse LinkedIn profile; he asked after their work and their parents, if he couldn’t bring any other relatives they had to mind; they offered to introduce him to some sister or distant cousin (who just happened to be there this very evening!); and finally he escaped with a thin excuse that toed the line between terse politeness and passive aggression.

Simon turned, smile in place, and realised that he had no idea who the man was. He looked exactly like half of the toffs at the ball, except his hair was gelled to within an inch of its life, clearly trying to cover up some early balding. Ah, well, as long as he stuck to the script, they usually didn’t realise that he’d forgot who they were. “I’m well, thank you. How are you finding the ball this year?”

“It’s good to be back, I must say! My brother is graduating this year. And my sister is here as well” – it was like _clockwork_ , Simon thought ruefully – “you know she graduated four years ago. We’re all here to cheer him on.”

“Please pass my congratulations on to your brother. It must be nice to be back on campus together,” Simon replied.

“Our table is just over there,” Gelled Hair said, waving in the general direction of approximately two hundred tables. The green was packed with them. “Come pass them on yourself!”

Simon readied himself to make an extremely transparent excuse – and it was going to be a whopper, his drink hadn’t even arrived yet – and flee, when he felt a delicate arm snake around his waist.

“Simon! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Mama’s got it into her head to take a picture of everyone in front of the library,” Daphne chirped. Given that they had already filled an entire SD card with photos of the family and friends that afternoon, Simon was willing to bet that she’d been watching their little exchange and finally taken pity on him.

“That’s fine—we were just—it was good to catch up, Basset,” Gelled Hair squeaked out, and when Simon barely nodded at him, too busy gazing adoringly at his girlfriend, turned around and fled.

Simon kissed the side of Daphne’s head and muttered, “Thank you for having such perfect timing.”

“That’s what you keep me around for! Beating off all of the social climbers,” she said brightly. “And also sex.”

“Mostly the sex,” Simon said, then caught her by the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a deep, slow kiss.

They surfaced when the bartender cleared his throat and placed their drinks on the bar. Simon paid, then ignored the drinks in favour of kissing Daphne some more, tracing his tongue at the seam of her lips and drinking in her taste as she sighed into him.

Finally, he rested his lips on her forehead and asked plaintively, “When can we leave?”

She pulled back, smirking at him. “You are _not_ defiling me outside of the music building this year, mister. I’m going to get drunk and dance with all of my friends and my sisters until at least midnight and then we can discuss going back to the room so that you can propose to me.”

Simon nearly choked on his own tongue. How on _earth_ had she known what he was planning?

“You’re incredibly obvious, even if Anthony hadn’t been making stroppy, poorly-veiled comments about it all week. Sorry, I’ll stop now, before you have a fit.”

“I love you,” he murmured. “Go and dance; I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” she said in reply, then bounced off towards the dancefloor with her gin. Simon took a swallow of his lager to brace himself, then headed back to the tables to give Anthony a good ribbing about spilling the beans.

* * *

As flippant as she’d been earlier, Daphne was still nervous when she finally found Simon at the end of the night. Her feet were sore from dancing and her throat was raw from shouting at her friends over the music. As a last hurrah before graduation, they couldn’t have done better, but she had a feeling Simon was about to top the elation that buoyed her as she found him sitting with Anthony, whose conquest clearly hadn’t worked out.

“Shall we?” Daphne held out her hand to Simon, who pressed a kiss to her palm and then said his goodbyes to her brother.

This year, they managed the walk back to the room with only one detour – she’d banned the alcove by the music hall, but apparently the trees by the gatehouse were fair game for her to be absolutely despoiled in – but Daphne found she was still plenty keyed up as they returned.

Simon had her sit on the edge of the bed and asked her to close her eyes, which she thought was ridiculous – like they both didn’t know what was about to happen – but as soon as she closed them she found that it calmed her. She heard him rummaging in his bag, then a whisper of fabric as he knelt in front of her.

“You can open your eyes now,” Simon said gently. Daphne drank in the sight of him kneeling, adoration clear on his face, before she noticed the beautiful ring he held, with a gorgeous marquis-cut emerald set between two diamonds. She willed herself not to cry.

“Until I met you, I didn’t think I’d ever want this with someone. I burn for you, Daphne, I will want you always, and I will always be awestruck by your beauty. But a beautiful woman is one thing, and to meet your best friend in the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Simon, I would love nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your patience while i dragged this final chapter out of my brain. i hope you enjoyed reading it!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments/kudos are very much appreciated :)
> 
> texting work skins from [this wonderful tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845)!


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